


You Think

by sleuthlaw



Series: horror by sleuth [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood and Injury, Cannibalism (?), Horror, Violence, someone gets eaten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:14:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27295495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleuthlaw/pseuds/sleuthlaw
Summary: You think she’s beautiful when she accidentally knocks into you at the supermarket.
Series: horror by sleuth [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1992904
Kudos: 1





	You Think

You think she’s beautiful when she accidentally knocks into you at the supermarket. Your pasta noodles go falling to the ground with her package of ground beef patties. She lets out a string of apologies, speaking in a rushed manner and high voice as she rushes to pick up what she dropped. You don’t normally expect to run into people on your late night grocery runs. You prefer visiting this late in the evening, and would probably choose to do so if it wasn’t your only option. Long days at work mean you aren’t left with a lot of free time and often just resort to going to the store when you eventually run out of food. You never run into people when you go. When you do, you often run and avoid interaction as much as you can. But not her. You can’t help but stare at her because she looks like a goddess. She’s a goddess unfit to be standing in the middle of the pasta aisle and you are unworthy of having knocked into her. 

You think she’s beautiful when she laughs at how nervous you sound when you ask for her number. It comes out as a stutter. You can feel your face heat up as it turns as red as the cans of pasta sauce lining the shelf next to you. You’ve never done this before — asking a stranger for their number has always been something far out of your comfort zone. But this chance encounter leaves you ignoring your usual precautions. The thought that she could walk down this grocery store aisle and out of your life forever makes you feel ill. So you ask, and you sound incredibly nervous when you do so. And though she laughs she must find you endearing because she pulls a pen from her purse and takes your hand in hers. You suspect your embarrassed flush must have spread through your whole body because her hand is so cold against your own as she writes her phone number against your skin. 

You think she’s beautiful while on a video call with you, which feels entirely unfair. You didn’t think it was possible for someone to look so flawless on camera without any editing or professional lighting. But there she was, sitting at a desk with her phone propped against a tape dispenser as she typed away on her laptop. She had insisted on a video call, wanting to talk instead of text as she finished an assignment she had to finish tonight. The two of you had been texting for about a week now, and you would usually turn down a request. You’ve never been good at phone calls, let alone video calls. And you know you don’t look nearly as good as she does right now. But she laughs at your comments as you tell her about your day. She doesn’t talk much about herself but is constantly interested in hearing what you have to say. It’s nice. It’s nice to feel listened to. You live a lonely existence, with few friends you talk to on a regular basis and fewer people you’d consider close. You don’t have many people to tell about your day or interests, let alone anyone who’s actually  _ interested  _ to hear any of it. So despite your initial reluctance, you find yourself enjoying the call as you stare at her on the screen and she listens to you talk. She suggests the two of you go to dinner Friday night, and saying no doesn’t even feel like an option. It’s not like you have plans. Your Friday nights are often spent alone. And you’d much rather spend it in her company. 

You think she’s beautiful when you sit across from her for dinner. It’s a nice restaurant -- nicer than you would ever suggest -- but you can’t tear your eyes off her long enough to really take in the decor and ambiance of it. She insists on taking care of the bill and doesn’t order much, making you feel self-conscious about your own meal. Her steak leaks red as she pushes bits of it around her plate as you talk, her gaze rarely leaving your face to focus on her own meal. She seems to be very interested in what you’re talking about, despite your topics being nothing new and fairly boring in your own opinion. It hits you that maybe she’s not so captivated by what you’re saying but by you yourself, and the thought makes you feel as though you may implode. 

You think she’s beautiful when she gives you a smile while biting her bottom lip when she pays for the check. You can’t look away from her, especially her eyes. Their golden color pulls you in. You are drowning in it, incapable of pulling yourself from this gaze. You’re drowning in it, and everything around you feels thick like you’re stuck in honey. You cannot breathe, you cannot move, and yet you find clarity and escape in her voice. You find you’d follow that voice anywhere, just because it’s something to hold onto while you’re drowning in those mesmerizing brown eyes. She asks you to go back to her place after this. You nod, despite the fact you had work in the morning and needed to return home. You can’t find it in you to tell her no.

You think she’s beautiful when you watch her beautiful smile reveal gnarled, grotesque teeth. There’s maybe a second to really process what you’ve seen before they’re at your neck. The initial pain lasts only a few seconds before you fall to the floor. You would have landed with a nasty thud had it not been for the plush rug in her living room, it’s soft cream color now being stained with your blood. You stare up at her, the pain now searing through your neck. Your blood coats her face as a tongue begins to lick over those monstrous teeth. Those golden eyes stare back at you, and once again you feel like you are drowning in them. Fleeing is not an option because you are captivated by that gaze. You cannot breathe, though this time it is due to your throat being ripped open instead of from being overwhelmed by her attention. She kneels over you with a cruel smile. You find you can’t even force out a scream if your body tried to. 

Even as you lay dying on the floor, as she rips apart your flesh with those gnarled teeth and spills even more of your blood onto her fine white rug, you cannot help but think that she is beautiful. 

**Author's Note:**

> this piece was more of me experimenting with my style from a point of view I don't tend to write in. But I really enjoyed writing it : )


End file.
